


Life

by TheLanternWretch



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 08:12:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16970958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLanternWretch/pseuds/TheLanternWretch
Summary: Frozen in stone but still conscious, the mighty Galio watches as life in Demacia passes by. People are unaware they're being watched over and cheered on by their giant stone guardian.





	Life

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked if I would write a little drabble for Galio - nothing big or fancy. Just something little as I've been kicking around the idea of writing the character. This was the result.

It was nearly a good two centuries since Galio had been allowed to move. In that time, he had seen so much happen in Demacia - people were born, people had their victories, their losses, and then they died. It took him a while to understand that people couldn’t be repainted like him, their cracks mended to, parts re-sculpted if needed. No, humans were not like him. They just…. died. 

There was one that had caught his eyes years ago. There was a little girl who loved playing near the base of his feet almost every day, gazing up in wonder at the Colossus. He wished he could hear what she was saying as she pointed and smiled, but alas, her tiny voice was too far away for him to grasp onto any sort of spoken words. He knew whenever she came around - her fiery red hair easily stood out to him. Red, and curly. With each year, it only got longer and more curly. 

 _What would it be like to have hair?_ The thought drifted across his mind now and then. 

Galio knew her favorite color was blue. Dark blue, actually. At least, he thought so. She wore that color a lot whenever he saw her. She always stood out whenever her and a group of Demacian children played near his claws, or when the silly humans did their annual festival and ceremony, honoring him and someone usually retelling ‘myths’ of the stone gargoyle coming to life in their times of need.

“ _I’d like to be around more than just now and then.”_ He thought to himself, wishing only someone would cast a spell on him or some sort of magic would come along that would be strong enough to keep him awake, to keep his body from seizing up. Until then, he was trapped in this state, immobile, unable to speak, unable to do anything but stand there and be a visual beacon of hope for the Demacian people...

And, of course, he kept himself as amused as possible by watching the people and keeping track of them.

That little red head disappeared for a while, only to reappear what he guessed must have been years later, sporting rather impressive armor and a sword at her hip. She was yelling commands at a group of soldiers as they positioned themselves to head out and for the first time, Galio was able to hear her voice. It was strong, deep, unafraid of anything she would face. No wonder she was whisked away to be trained for the militia. She definitely seemed to earn whatever rank she had achieved. 

“ _I wish I could come with you.”_  The thought echoed inside his head as he silently watched them march out until they were beyond the horizon. Would she come back a hero? Maybe. He certainly hoped so. She was a little ball of fire - there’s no way they could extinguish her. She was too spunky, too determined. He’d seen the way she’d dueled kids with a stick in her youth and easily had them beat in a few seconds. As far as he knew, this was her first mission and she was going to be awesome.

Days later, the familiar cots arrived back at the city’s gates. The remaining soldiers carried their dead on the stretchers, their heads lowered in respect as they brought them home to their final resting places. Galio scanned the group and a sense of dread filled him when he didn’t see her among the ones returning home. Then, she caught it. Beneath one of the black cloths, he saw the tiniest glimpse of red curls bouncing, hanging over the side of the edge of the cot.

“ _Oh.”_

Another unknowing friend had perished. That was another life he could have saved if he could  **just. _move._**

Emotions flooded through him: anger, sadness, despair, loneliness… Why? Why was he made to only be able to move sometimes? And, if he were only to be used in times of great magical threat, then why was he conscious? Why not be sleeping like the rest of the stone around him, from what he could tell. Some days, he just wanted to scream, to run and feel the earth under his claws, the wind whipping his face… just to feel  _alive_. It felt like he were going mad sometimes, the only conversations he’s had in the past who knows how long only with himself. 

He usually felt bad, but sometimes he wished a giant magical attack would come onto Demacia itself so he could awaken again… maybe for good! It wasn’t a pleasant thought. So many would die, but, he would be awake. True, it was a selfish thought, but he didn’t know how else to accomplish this. 

Small movement near his base caught his attention. There was a young boy pointing up at the colossus and then pretending to stomp, running at his friend and slapping his arms like wings.

“ _Well, let’s see where you go, friend. What are you going to do with your gift of life?”_


End file.
